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January 2022


 {Fantasy} Fualt of the Heirs | Chapter 1

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Posts : 348
Join date : 2017-02-15
Age : 24
Location : The Vast expanse of hills and nothing else

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Name: Red Crow
Faction: A Lonely boy
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{Fantasy} Fualt of the Heirs | Chapter 1 Empty
PostSubject: {Fantasy} Fualt of the Heirs | Chapter 1   {Fantasy} Fualt of the Heirs | Chapter 1 EmptySun Feb 26, 2017 4:19 pm

This is not a happy story. This is a story about a great kingdom razed to the ground. This kingdom does not fall to famine, plague, or war, though those were all present at the time of its demise. No, that fire which burned this great kingdom down was that demon in all men. That flame which consumes the souls of all mortals burns more than ever in the men and women in this story. Desire, greed, a lust for all things that will destroy all things. Since the beginning of this great kingdom it's warrior and mages have defended against beasts the size of its capital, organizations that held communes with gods, and even the apocalypse incarnate. Now they must face their greatest enemy yet: their allies.

Welcome to the world of Miren, Agrerian year 25,437, Early summer. An enormous wooden ship pulled up to the docks at the stone city of Alessia, the capital of Carit. The sun shone down upon the crowd that gathered just short of the docks, peering hopefully at the ship. The deck of the mighty vessel lay barren apart from its lonely captain and his sea weathered crew. Slowly, the captain moved his aged body down from his helm and onward to the opposite end of the ship.

The crowd watched as the captain walked, step to step, towards the small shack-like block of wood at the other end of the ship. When he finally stopped in front of it he reached his hand outward as two members of the ship's crew prepared a long wooden board to act as a bridge between the deck and the dock. The captain looked back to his crew, and then to mass that waited with baited breath. With a sour look on his face, the captain opened the door and retreated back to his helm.

It was mere seconds before something happened, but to crowd the silence was eternal, hostile, agonizing, like they were drowning and pleading for someone, anyone, to reach out and help them. When sound did erupt from the door it was the sound of a hundred people clad in plate and chain emerging from that door in rows of two. Proud soldiers holding their weapons aloft and donning shining armor, the look of restrained joy on their face, though it was burdened with the weight of war.

The crowds began to shift and chatter as the soldiers marched out onto the docks, a thousand heads searching the faces of the men and women in armor, but not yet falling upon them as they moved into formation. A line of soldiers in plate holding a sword or axe lined both sides of the wooden board as they dismounted the vessel. On the outside of each of those lines stood another line of soldiers in chain mail, wielding long spears twice as tall as they were. Again on the empty side of these soldiers in chain stood another line of men in plate, and this pattern continued until there were no more emerging from the ship. There were many men and women in those lines, but perhaps, no, certainly not enough.

For a moment the crowd was torn, half of them cheering and laughing, half of them wailing and crying out curses. Amidst the crowd of families were those that neither cried nor cheered, but instead stroked their chins and thought, and they judged. From the darkness behind the door-frame emerged a giant man, ducking slightly as not to bump his head on the frame. The man was clad in full silver plate armor and tower shield, outlined in gold, and he shone like a god. He marched over to the end of the plank that sat on the ship, looking down at his soldiers and the crowd, impossible to tell his emotion due to the helmet he wore that covered his face. One final man emerged from the door, a short, grumpy, dreary little ginger man with long, flowing hair, dressed in pale white leather armor. The small man shuffled exhaustively over to stand upright next to the man in armor.

With confidence in his movement the armored man reached up and removed his glistening helmet, revealing the face of a cunning but kind man. His black hair was shaven close to his head and transitioned into a sharp beard that accentuated his already jutting chin and strong jaw. His smile was bright and welcoming but his eyes were dull with no shine, and something nagging about him seemed far away. With one hand holding his helmet and the other resting at the top of his shield, he spread his arms out as if welcoming the masses to him.

“My people! We have returned! With only a fraction of my troops, I assure you, we are not fighting a complicated enemy!” His voice was thunderous but comforting, he let out a chuckle. “The troops I have left in Twol will do finely whilst I am on my short retreat at home, rather, this was an opportunity for these troops here to reunite with their family, which they will have full reign to do before we depart again. For those who do not see your children, your spouse's, or your parents, take pride knowing they are fighting the good fight for your sake! For now, welcome these brave men and women home, and welcome my brother and I home as well. Let these days be joyous, for the nights have been long and dark, yet still we have seen the sunrise!”

The crowd cheered and fell upon the soldiers, kissing and hugging them. The small man nudged the colossus in armor to get his attention.

“Well, you can still give a speech, Duane, I’d thought by now you’d surely have lost your tongue in one of those bouts.” The small man joked so that the crowd couldn’t hear him.

“Now, now, Ermond, How could I possibly not take the opportunity to inspire my people and set their minds at ease?” Duane whispered back.

“You always had a way with our people, I admire that, I certainly couldn't do any better. Though telling them this was a 'retreat' might not have been wise.” Ermond said somewhat bitterly.

“Don’t put yourself down, brother, our people would have fallen to the fading if it weren’t for your medicine and magics. They'll be glad to think we are simply taking respite. They love you just as much as they do me. Which in this case, may be somewhat of a problem.”

The two men looked back at the swarming crowd that blocked their path to home. The people would encompass them, and Ermond didn’t favor being engulfed in people with seemingly no care for his personal space. Luckily their savior came in the form of the palace guard marching in formation to surround a person in the center. The palace guard dissolved and split through the crowd like an axe through wood. Sauntering down through newly created lane came a beautiful woman with long golden locks and intelligent eyes. Her dress was silver and purple, sleek and smooth, it distracted from the bastard sword hung at her hip.

Her smile was sly but there was a genuine happiness to it, reinforced by the shine that glimmered in her green eyes. She moved so gracefully, like she was performing an act that required complete precision, she did so without even a hint of inconvenience.

“Boys, Welcome home.” She said as she opened her arms, anticipating a hug.

Duane walked steadily down to the docks until he was right in front of her, looking down with the same smile, but something new in his eyes: pride. In one fell swoop he lifted her off the ground in a hug.

“It is so good to see you again, Sister!” He cried as Ermond plodded on behind him.

“Duane,” Ermond said. “Let’s not crush Eliza, please.”

Realizing his mistake, Daune put their sister back down, somewhat embarrassed. Eliza, who had ascended and descended as gracefully as she had approached, seemed unfazed and unsurprised by the advance.

“It’s a pleasure to see the two of you as well, dear brothers. Duane, you’re looking just fine, Ermond… You look tired, perhaps this break was well needed?”

“No breaks for us, Eliza, you know how our admirable older brother is.” Ermond said bitterly.

“We were informed of an emergency at home, Eliza, was this just a ruse?” Duane shook his head in disappointment.

“I’m afraid not…” Eliza said, showing her first signs of discomfort and haste. “Though that will have to wait, it is not to be discussed among the... public.”

She turned and gestured to one of the palace guard, causing them to quickly shuffle in, surrounding the three siblings.

“Say goodbye to the masses, brothers, we are headed for the castle.”

This is the third and final project I'm working on currently, and I'm pleased to launch the first chapter!
As always, feedback is more than welcome and by that I mean "dear god, please leave feedback."
Hope you enjoyed and I'll see you next chapter of whatever story I finish the next chapter for.

Be wary, or become a lonely boy.
{Fantasy} Fualt of the Heirs | Chapter 1 4wcQkTt
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